Just a little drabble that I did. It popped up in my head and refused to stop jumping up and down until I typed it out. Don't know whether it's gonna be any good or not.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Harry stumbled as he made his way across the grounds of Hogwarts. At least, they used to be school grounds.

Now it was a battlefield.

Harry's brain dimly registered the fact that the sun was shining, and the clouds were moving off, but his main focus was the bodies.

Elsewhere in the country, people were slowly waking to a beautiful sunny April morning, and Harry sighed to himself as this thought passed through his brain.

Voldemort had chosen Easter Sunday to attack the school. Thankfully, a lot of the students had been absent, choosing to spend the holiday with their families, however, also by a stroke of luck, the entire DA had remained behind, choosing to train. It was almost as if they had been anticipating an attack, which, Harry reasoned, wasn't unusual. After all, it was his last year and the attitude in the school had been tense, a sort of wait, the calm before the storm.

He gazed over the battlefield, and sighed with relief as he saw Tonks and Remus helping the mediwizards carry the injured off the field. He stood on a rock near the lake, and gazed around the field, trying to ignore the pounding headache, and the broken ribs.

Some things were more important.

Silent tears trickled down his face as he witnessed the destruction. There were no Death Eaters left, as all that remained living had been taken straight to Azkaban by aurors.

But the bodies. Minerva McGonagall lay in a pool of her own blood, a slashing hex prominent on her torso. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan, lying together where they had died defending each other.

And so many more.

But there was just one he was looking for.

He choked back a sob as he nearly tripped over Draco Malfoy. Draco had turned in the end, and had been tortured for his defiance. He would be buried a hero.

And still he kept searching. Ron and Hermione were both in St. Mungo's, critical but alive. He couldn't say the same for all his classmates.

And he was still looking. He briefly realised a pain that meant his arm was also broken, but he was so numb he didn't really feel it. He also vaguely heard voices, but didn't know, nor care, whether they were talking to him or not.

And then he found what he was looking for, and with a cry, fell to his knees.

"No, no, no no no no," over and over again. It couldn't be true though, he promised that this would never happen.

But, wait, and Harry laughed, and cried at the same time, because he was so relieved that he couldn't help it.

For there was breath, faint but there, and Harry felt his heart soar, for there was hope, even in a place like that which he was in.

"Severus, my Severus, can you hear me? Wake up, I'm here, I'm never letting go. I'm back Severus, and it's going to be OK from now on. Can you hear me Severus?"

And Severus groaned, and blinked, and Remus came running over, to pour potions down his throat, before moving on to the next victim.

Harry cried, and stroked Severus' hair, and knew that it really WAS going to be ok.

And as the sun continued to rise over the horizon, and the battlefield was cleared, Harry and Severus rose, albeit slowly and unsteadily, and limped towards the castle, hand in hand.